


The Only Medicine is You

by Kellyscams



Series: Kells' Fic Fest [21]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Begging, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Explicit Sexual Content, Hate Sex, Light Bondage, Love Confessions, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Rimming, Roommates, Self Confidence Issues, Spit As Lube, Top Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-22
Updated: 2016-04-22
Packaged: 2018-06-03 19:07:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6622684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kellyscams/pseuds/Kellyscams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After so many years of fighting for his parents' approval, Bucky Barnes has decided to get himself into medical school all on his own. And so far, even if his parents refuse to see his success, he's not doing to bad. </p><p>There's only one problem. </p><p>His insufferable, pain in the ass roommate, Steve Rogers.</p><p>((this fic is one shot so it's complete. i have no idea why it's listed as 1/? chapters and won't change. but as of right now, this is a completed work))</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Only Medicine is You

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: You have opened the floodgates. LOL Prompt: skinny/smol, tattooed, Starbucks-hipster (yes, that's a thing) med student Steve and Bucky; either meet-cute with lotsa flirting and bonus points for kissing or fingering, swearing, let's-see-how-many-orgasms-I-can-draw-outta-him fun with light bondage.

Bucky Barnes was fifteen when he realized no one ever expected him to amount to anything.

“How’s my son doing? Bucky?” His father had said to someone on the phone. Someone. Bucky doesn’t even know _who_. George Barnes even laughed like the question was humorous. “I don’t know. He’ll be lucky if he even gets into prison. Then again,” He scoffed, “that means I’ll _still_ be paying for him.”

There’s still a stabbing sensation in Bucky’s gut whenever he thinks about it, even if his family had their reasons for thinking such things at the time. From being expelled from his private school at twelve to reform school at thirteen to juvenile hall when he was fourteen -- he hadn’t exactly given his parents reasons to be optimistic about his future. 

That was the day he decided to make a change. No longer would he be the family disappointment. The one everyone expected to fail. He packed his bags. Moved from Brooklyn to live with his aunt in Indiana. A fresh, new start. He’d earn his parents’ love again. He would.

Bucky Barnes was eighteen when he realized no matter what he did, no matter how he improved, no matter how hard he tried, he was a disappointment. He was graduating high school with a 3.8 grade point average and earned himself a scholarship and was accepted to Columbia University. After three years in Indiana, where he hadn’t gotten into one stitch of trouble, he would go home and make something of himself. 

The only one at his graduation was the aunt who had been kind enough to take him in. When he called home to find out where they’d been he was told the cost wasn’t worth the trip.

“Oh.” He tried to keep the hurt out of his voice when he spoke to his mom. “Okay. I, uh, I understand. I’m… coming home, Ma. I got into Columbia.”

“Mhm,” she responded. “How much will that cost?”

“Well, I…” Bucky cleared his throat. “I got a scholarship. It covers some of it. You don’t… have to pay or nothin’, but… if you could co-sign for a loan?”

“I suppose your father and I could do that for you. Did you hear about the Rumlow boy? He’s going to Yale. Following his father’s footsteps. Wants to be a lawyer. His parents are so proud.”

The tears hurt his eyes. Bucky forced them back. 

“I’m… I’m gonna be a doctor, Ma.”

“Sure, hon.” 

She would go on to tell him about the children of her friends and all the wonderful things they were going to do. Bucky could hear what she didn’t say. She didn’t believe what he said. Didn’t believe in him. At all. 

Bucky made another decision that day. He was gonna work hard, he was gonna study hard, he was even gonna party hard. Okay… party a little. When the occasion called for it. He was going to get his damn medical degree if it fucking killed him and he’d do _without_ his parents’ help. 

They’d see. One day, he’d prove them wrong. And they’d just _have_ to admit that they were proud of him. 

After two and a half years at Columbia University, Bucky’s made quite a few sacrifices in order to obtain his goals. While his classmates take their newfound freedom away from home to explore the world -- or New York City which is kind of the world -- and party and do what they want, Bucky uses the time to study and to work and study more and work more. Refusing to give himself any reason to need to ask his parents for money, Bucky holds two jobs. Even three sometimes. In lieu of going out on the weekends, Bucky crams in as many study sessions as he can. Despite the gruelling and stressful curriculum of being a biology major, he’s been lucky enough to make some amazing friends -- who remind him to take a breather every now and then.

So maybe his parents still haven’t quite gotten into his corner, but whatever. He hasn’t asked them for any help and Bucky’s still managing to get through this. Other than them cosigning his loans and having to spend summers at his parents’ place, Bucky’s doing it all on his own. There’s only been one thing getting in his way this whole time.

Steve Rogers.

Bucky’s pain in the ass, insufferable roommate. 

He’s very attractive, Bucky will admit that. Mop of messy blonde hair he keeps covered under a beanie most of the times. Thick rimmed glasses that unfortunately keep his pretty blue eyes and long lashes hidden. Plus he’s got a whole lot of tattoos in random places over his skinny body. A shamrock on his inner right wrist. Rosaries wrapped around his left shoulder. The word _Saoirse_ on the back of his neck that Bucky’s learned means freedom in Irish. The name _Sarah_ over his left pec. 

At first, Bucky thought they’d get along just fine. Steve’s a nice enough guy. Eager to lend a helping hand to anyone moving in or out of the dorms. Quick to hold a study date for anyone needing the extra help. Always offering to pick something up for anyone when he’s going out. He’s also pre-med so he and Bucky share a lot of the same classes. 

They’d even been fine the first few weeks. Steve was quiet and polite and never got in Bucky’s way. They even have a lot in common. Both are baseball fans -- _let’s go Yankees_. They like some of the same shows -- Steve even introduced Bucky to a whole slew of animes. They listen to the same music and Bucky got Steve really into Johnny Cash. They’ve pigged out on too much pizza and laughed until their sides hurt and spent all night playing video games and halfway through the first semester Bucky realized he might’ve liked Steve a little… more than he should’ve.

But after a while every little thing Steve did started to drive Bucky out of his mind. And for a little thing -- just a few inches past five feet probably -- Steve knows how to get under Bucky’s skin in every way. 

Steve Rogers isn’t afraid of anything. He grabs life by both hands and pushes through and never backs down. He can light up a room with that smile of his and he’s always got this positive attitude while Bucky struggles to just stay afloat. 

Steve Rogers gets exactly _one_ thing from Starbucks -- a Java Chip Frappuccino blended Coffee. The biggest one available. Which, given how tiny Steve is, just makes the guy bounce off the walls for hours. A bit of pep is one thing, but when Steve drinks one of those things he’s worse than a kid on a damn sugar rush. 

“Oh c’mon!” Steve’ll yell at his computer playing some game. Shaking his knee or even hopping around on his bed. “That was a hit! I totally hit him! Sam, I hit him, you saw it!”

“Steve,” Bucky mutters, lifting the book he’s trying to read. “Do you mind?”

Sometimes Steve looks up, but more often than not he’ll mutter a “yeah, yeah” and wave his hand. Then he’ll lower his voice for about thirty seconds until he’s shouting again. 

Steve Rogers doesn’t know what a hamper is for so his clothes are always just strewn across the floor and over the side of his bed and on his desk. Even wet towels. Bucky’s not exactly a neat freak, but he does like his space to be free of clutter and having Steve’s dirty socks all over the place doesn’t help with that. 

But no matter how often Steve assures him, “Last time, Buck, I swear” Bucky still ends up having to pick up after him. He’s even found Steve’s laundry mixed with his. Whenever it’s happened, Steve claims his innocence.

“Hey, dude, if you just left my stuff where _I_ put it, maybe it wouldn’t happen.”

“Put it?” Bucky argues. “You don’t _put_ your clothes anywhere. You just leave them wherever you toss ‘em.”

The most he gets to that is a shrug. 

Steve Rogers doesn’t know how to throw out his garbage either. Meaning those empty Starbucks cups are everywhere. The only time he’ll toss them out is when they get in _his_ way. If Bucky doesn’t want cups all over the place, he needs to get rid of them himself. 

“Are you startin’ a collection or something?”

“Hey.” Steve gives him a shit-eating grin. “Everyone should collect something.”

Bucky scoffs. “I don’t collect anything.”

“Sure you do. Sticks.”

“Sticks?”

“You gotta have somethin’ shoved up your ass.”

That wasn’t the first time Steve took such a shot at him. Claiming that Bucky was too uptight. Wound up and needed to cut loose. Which Bucky has vehemently denied. Just because he likes things a certain way does _not_ mean he’s got a stick up his ass. 

Steve Rogers doesn’t know how to turn the lights or the television off when he leaves the room. Steve Rogers is always doodling over everything. Steve Rogers never pushes his chair in. Steve Rogers gets stoned all the time even though he’s taking medicines for tons of shit. Steve Rogers barely cracks a book and aces all his classes. Steve Rogers comes in every few weeks all banged up because Steve Rogers never keeps his mouth shut. 

And to top it all off: Steve Rogers is the best fuck Bucky Barnes has ever had. 

***

“You’re stressing out, James.”

Bucky slams the book closed and drops his head on top of it with a muffled and exhausted groan. They’ve been cooped up in the library for four hours now. Without even taking a few minutes for a break. 

“I’m taking the MCATs in a _week_ , Tash,” Bucky says. Loud enough that he earns the shush of passing librarian. “No _shit_ I’m stressing out.”

Stressing out doesn’t even begin to cover it. If Bucky thought he was nervous before taking the SATs, preparing for the Medical College Admission Test is making him crazy. He’s not quite sure he’s going to even make it to the test without exploding into a thousand pieces. Bucky’s never been so damn nervous in his life. 

“You know, Bucky,” Natasha says. “You _could_ postpone taking them. Isn’t that what your advisor suggested if you didn’t think you were ready?”

Yes, that much is true. Bucky doesn’t _have_ to take this one. He can always cancel and then reschedule for a later time. Dr. Banner has reminded him of that during every meeting they’ve had during the past six weeks. Ever since the day Bucky came to him to ask about registering for the exam. It’s not so much that Bucky doesn’t think he’s not ready to take them. 

Despite some hiccups along the way, he’s getting along relatively well. He hasn’t gotten into any tiffs with his family, even though his sister is set to graduate high school at the end of the year and it’s _all_ his parents can talk about. All his classes have been dealable and he’s not having any troubles with them. As far as he knows there’s no drama going on within his social circle. 

Truth be told, Bucky could know exactly what questions would be on the test and he’d still be shitting bricks. He’s always been like this. Works himself into a frenzy only to do pretty well -- if not excellent -- on whatever it is he’s freaked himself out over. His sister’s made fun of him for it for years. 

So, really, it’s not so much that he’s worried about not being prepared. Bucky’s fairly sure that he’s as prepared as he can possibly be for now. He can study every day for another year and he’s gonna be this nervous. No, backing out now isn’t going to do much. Plus… there’s that other thing.

“No.” He sighs. “I’m not cancelling.” Bucky mumbles softly, “He’s not taking it before me.”

The way Natasha’s eyebrows shoot up makes Bucky think she might actually reach across the table to slap him. Luckily for Bucky -- and his cheek -- she refrains, though the thought clearly hasn’t faded yet. 

“You have got to be kidding me.” She pinches the top of her nose. Sighs. Shakes her head. Sighs again. “Are you seriously telling me that you’re refusing to reschedule all because you don’t want your roommate to take it first?”

“He started it!” Bucky exclaims and earns himself another irritated shush from across the room. “Steve wasn’t even gonna _take_ them this session. He only registered because he found out _I_ registered.”

“You two,” she mutters, “are a pair of children, do you know that? I swear, if you’re not going at it about something, you’re just going at it.”

Face filling with a blush, Bucky drops his gaze to the table. The book he closed glares back at him. Accusing. He and Steve have gone at it on top of it. That book’s seen things that other books haven’t. It’s none too pleased. 

She’s not exactly wrong either, even if they never really talk about the… _unusual_ relationship Bucky’s developed with Steve. It always starts the same. One will find something to gripe over; Bucky will be annoyed because Steve’s left a mess in their dorm or Steve’ll be aggravated over something. Someone will make an irritated remark, the other bites back, and the next thing Bucky knows they’re all over each other.

They’ve been fucking for a year now. Hate fucking, is probably the best way for Bucky to describe it, but fucking nonetheless. 

They’d just gotten back from winter break during their first semester -- or Steve did, since Bucky spent the time on campus -- when it happened the first time. Maybe it was the month away from him or maybe it was the thought of little, annoying Steve having a nice, warm family to go home to while Bucky stayed by himself in their small dorm room working three jobs, but when Steve opened the door with a smile on his mouth and a cup of Starbucks in his hand, Bucky was ready to scream.

“Hey, Buck,” Steve greeted, lugging a few bags in behind him. “How was your vacation?”

The words just burst from Bucky. “You’re gonna start right away, aren’t you?”

Steve, halfway to his side of the room, froze. Stared at Bucky confused and surprised, and then glanced down at the cup in his hands. 

“For fuck’s sake, I don’t do anything right, do I?” Steve exclaimed. “I _just_ got back!”

“And already you’re pissin’ me off!”

Bucky had no right to be angry with Steve, he knew that, but he just couldn’t help it. Steve really _hadn’t_ done anything, but just the sight of him, all cheerful and full of hope, filled Bucky with unimaginable rage. It wasn’t fair. Why did Steve get to do whatever he wanted while Bucky had to work and work and work and his parents _still_ didn’t approve of him? They still bragged about their friends’ children’s accomplishments and how well his sister was doing and _still_ assumed every call Bucky made to them would be the one that he’d be asking for them to bail him out of some sort of trouble. 

“You got issues, dude,” Steve grumbled. “Seriously.”

“Oh _I_ have issues?” Bucky yelled back. “When _you’re_ the one gettin’ your ass handed to ya every other fuckin’ week cause you never keep your damn mouth shut?” Steve spun around. Eyes wide and full of shock. And Bucky just kept going. “You think you can do these things, Steve, but you can’t!”

“Fuck you!” That was the first time Steve ever yelled. They’d bickered before. Quick back and forths of irritation, but Steve never really raised his voice. Not till that moment. “Don’t you fucking tell me what I can and can’t do! At least _I_ do shit! You do _nothing_!”

“I don’t have to prove anything to you!” Bucky shouted back. Flying off his bed and ending up right in Steve’s face. “I’m good enough the way I am! I’m _good_! I am!”

They just stood there for a moment, both seething, both furious. Bucky’s not sure who moved first -- though Lord _knows_ he’s tried to place the blame on Steve -- but they suddenly couldn’t keep their hands off of each other. Clothes were ripped off and tossed all over the place and Steve had Bucky pinned down on Bucky’s bed. Had him panting and moaning and whimpering into his pillow as Steve opened him up. Had him screaming at the top of his lungs that he’d be good and then coming all over himself when Steve whispered in his ear that he _was_ good. 

Steve may or may not have attempted to snuggle afterwards, Bucky’s not sure since he… well, bluntly put, he freaked out and sorta just flipped onto his side and turned his back to the guy who just fucked his brains out. After a second of hesitation, Steve climbed out of Bucky’s bed, muttered that he was taking a shower, and left. 

And that’s how it goes now. The tension mounts. They bicker. They fight. They fuck. Lather, rinse, repeat. 

“So…” Natasha says. “How about we get outta here for a bit? Clint and Laura are already at 1020.” The bar a few blocks away they usually go to. “We can meet them. Get your mind off all this.”

It’s a good idea, and at any other time Bucky would probably take her up on that offer. But this isn’t like other times, and if Bucky goes with her now, he’ll just be worrying himself and ruining everyone’s good time. 

“Nah.” He opens his book again. “Think I’m just gonna go through some more of this and just head back.”

“Alright.” She’s already standing and pulling her leather jacket on. “If you change your mind, you know where we’ll be.” Natasha pecks the top of his head as she leaves. “Don’t work too hard, James. And eat something.”

Bucky chuckles and promises he will and the moment he’s sitting at the table by himself he sorta wishes he went with Natasha. He still can, of course. She can’t’ve gotten too far just yet. Instead of following after her, Bucky packs his stuff and heads back to his dorm. As promised, he stops for a bite to eat along the way, which has him feeling a little better, but as soon as he gets his door open, Bucky just wants to scream.

Steve’s not there, but his presence is everywhere. Two empty -- or one empty, one still half full -- cups of Starbucks are balanced on the end of Steve’s bed. There’re two different socks in the middle of the floor as well as a towel. A _wet_ towel, Bucky finds out when he picks it up. Swearing a few times, Bucky just drops it back down and stretches his neck out. No point in getting himself all worked up when Steve’s not even here to fuck it out. 

Rather than letting his emotions get the best of him, Bucky grabs his robe, shoves his feet in flip flops, and goes to take a shower. Just minutes after getting under the stream of hot water though those emotions are suddenly too much to contain and Bucky finds himself crying. He’s not really even sure why. He knows he’s not _unprepared_ for this exam, but, really, he’s not so sure he’s _ready_ to take it. 

After shedding a few anxious tears in the shower, Bucky’s come to the conclusion that he should really think about putting it off. Just like Dr. Banner and Tasha have suggested. That thought, however, goes right out the window when he gets back to his room and Steve is there. Just sitting in the middle of his bed. Eyes all bloodshot. Because of _course_ Steve would go out and get _high_ when their test is so close. Of _course_ he’s not freaking the fuck out like Bucky is. Of _course_ he looks adorable. Of _course_ Bucky just wants the guy to ravage his body. Of course. 

“Of _fuckin’_ course.”

The words just come out and Steve whips his gaze at him. He looks around the room a bit and huffs. 

“ _What_?” he growls. “What’d I do _this_ time?”

Actually, now that Bucky looks around, he can’t really complain. Because those Starbucks cups are gone and the towel is hanging up on the corner Steve’s dresser and the mismatched socks are now on Steve’s feet. 

“Nothin’,” Bucky grumbles. “Just leave it to you to go off and get _high_ a week before the most _important_ test of our lives.” 

Steve doesn’t say anything at first. He just stares at Bucky and blinks a few times as though confused by what Bucky’s said. Which wouldn’t be surprising if he’s high. 

“Well,” Steve snickers. “You’re gonna freak out enough for the both of us anyway. I might as well kick back and leave you to it.”

Blood boiling, Bucky’s sure that there’s actually smoke coming out of his ears right now. 

“I hate you.” 

Bucky instantly feels bad for that. The way Steve’s face falls has the guilt pumping through him fast and hard and he wants to take it back. Also, it’s not true. Not even close. Bucky doesn’t really hate Steve. In fact, he might even like him. Which is probably why he nitpicks over everything he does. Which is probably why he refuses to snuggle after fucking. Which is probably why he won’t admit to himself that he really does like him. 

Steve is a distraction. A perfectly adorable, irritating, and dangerous distraction. Bucky can’t afford letting Steve in. He’s going to prove that he’s good enough. Nothing’s going to stop him. Especially not his perfectly adorable, irritating, dangerous distraction of a roommate. 

Pulling his knees up, Steve grumbles, “Fuck you, Barnes.”

And instead of apologizing like he wants to -- like he should -- Bucky just turns to face his bed and mutters back, “Eat my ass, Steve.”

After all these months, Bucky should be used to how Steve works. Steve’s a little shit and will take any opportunity he can to _be_ a little shit. So it really shouldn’t be all that surprising to suddenly have Steve’s hands pressed against the small of his back and pushing him flat onto his stomach over his bed. 

“Steve!” Bucky exclaims. “What the--”

Any words, any thought, any _anything_ disappears the second Bucky’s cheeks are spread and Steve’s tongue -- rough and warm and wet and perfect -- is suddenly between them. Lavishing the spot with teasing licks and soft suckles as Bucky’s rendered helpless under the incredible and unexpected pleasure. 

The sheets are bunched up in his fists as he tries for some sort of purchase on something, but no matter what Bucky does he cannot get ahold of himself. He just screams into his mattress as Steve’s tongue continues to dart in and out of him. Licking strips across his hole and delving deep inside of him and bringing Bucky closer to heaven than ever before.

It’s not that Steve’s never eaten him out before. He has, of course, during their passionate -- no, hate, definitely hate -- fueled fucking sessions that always leaves Bucky’s head spinning and mind blanked and body shaking in the aftermath. But it’s never been like this before. With so much vigor, so much _enthusiasm_ , as though Steve’s determined to do this for the rest of his life no matter what it does to Bucky. 

And right now, that relentless tongue has Bucky crying out and slamming his hand down on the bed. 

“Fuck!” he screams. “Oh fuck, Steve… _fuck_!”

Behind him, Steve hums either in appreciation or just to fuck with Bucky some more since he spreads Bucky’s cheeks more and shoves in even deeper. Which makes the small vibrations of that hum shoot right through Bucky’s whole body. His dick -- pressed into the blankets -- pulses and leaks and Bucky starts grinding against the bed. Until teeth sink into the inside of his thigh.

“Fuck!” he cries out. “You bastard!”

“Bastard, huh?” Steve murmurs. Kisses the spot he just bit and then nips at it again just enough to make Bucky yelp. “Stop doing that or I’m gonna stop.”

“Doing what?”

Instead of answering that, Steve starts pushing at him and pulling up on his hips until he gets Bucky on his knees, face pressed into his pillows and then Bucky understands.

“You’re an asshole,” Bucky grumbles since Steve’s stopped him now from getting that friction. 

“Oh yeah?” Steve’s hot breath spreads right across the spot between Bucky’s cheeks as he pulls them apart again. “Maybe I should stop then?”

Bucky whimpers and, fuck, Steve is just so good at this that he doesn’t even have it in him to care that he’s whimpering for more. 

“N-no… fuck… please… don’t stop.”

Steve chuckles. “That’s what I thought.”

He gets back to it then. Shoves his face between Bucky’s cheeks and fucks him with that expert tongue. Hot, moist, rough -- moving in and out of him and circling and teasing more and more. Bucky’s trembling with it all. With having so much but not enough, and Steve’s endless ministrations soon have him sobbing his name and pleading for him to stop even though that’s the last thing Bucky actually wants. Which, after all this time together, Steve’s already figured out. 

“Oh god… I can’t… I can’t…” There’s drool seeping into the pillow. Bucky doesn’t even have it in him to keep from drooling all over himself anymore. “I can’t… fucking hell, Steve… fuck… oh _fuck_ …”

Steve _still_ doesn’t stop. Not even to take a breather. He just keeps at it no matter how much Bucky begs and shakes and begs some more, bringing him so close to coming and backing off just before he can. Over and over again Bucky’s brought right to the cusp, an orgasm building and building and then withering away when Steve slows his tongue and retreats just enough to deny Bucky the sweet pleasure of release. 

There’re tears leaking out of his eyes and whatever’s left of his voice is weak and shaky when the pressure of another orgasm shudders through him.

Bucky whimpers, “Please… oh, Steve, let me come… please…”

It might be the nice way he’s asking now or it might just be that Steve’s done with him. Either way, when Bucky says that, Steve’s long, thin hands bite around his waist and he doesn’t slow down, and this time, that impending orgasm rushes through him. Sends Bucky soaring through twilight stars and daydreamed raptures. He screams wordlessly, _helplessly_ , as Steve licks him through it. And then _howls_ when Steve _still_ doesn’t let up.

“No!” Bucky cries. Slams his hand down on the mattress over and over over as the tears roll down his cheek. “Please! Oh, Steve… no more… please… no more…”

Bucky could easily move of course. It’s not like Steve’s going to stop him and Bucky can just fall flat on his stomach and roll over or he could just get up or he could even punch Steve in the face if he _really_ wanted to. But he just… _can’t_. Even now, with so much overstimulation making him cry and heaving in ugly sobs of breath, he just _can’t move_. Not when Steve’s not through with him. Not with Steve wanting him to stay just like that so he can do whatever he wants with him. Nothing else matters. Not the fucking MCATs. Not any of his classes. Not his _fucking_ parents who still don’t see anything in him. 

Maybe he’s not worth much of anything to anyone, but Bucky _can_ be good for Steve. He can stay still for him and shake and trembling and cry because when he does Steve always…

“You’re so good, Bucky.” Steve’s voice washes through him, and all the noise, all the worries, all the static suddenly goes quiet. “So good.”

The peace that fills him in moments like this -- that approval he works so hard for -- is indescribable. It’s probably hard to tell with all the tears that fall, but Steve rolls him over and climbs on top of him. Starts kissing those tears away. 

“Sh,” he sooths. “It’s okay.” Steve is easing the rope of Bucky’s robe out from under him. “I’m not through with you yet.”

Steve uses the rope to tie Bucky’s wrists to the end of the bed. They’ve done this before. Once or twice, so Bucky knows the drill. He immediately pulls his legs up, bending at the knee. Steve grins as he sucks on his fingers and then slips one inside of Bucky. He’s already wet and open enough just from Steve’s mouth alone that it practically slides on in. 

Bucky shudders around that one finger, his knees already shaking as he pulls against the rope. He gasps over a moan as Steve _slowly_ moves that one finger in and out of him. Tormentingly slow. He does that for a while, too. Just gently fingers him with his index finger. Every now and then Steve’ll let his other hand graze lightly across his chest, pausing to rolls a nipple between his fingers, and all Bucky can do is whimper and whine.

When Steve pulls his finger out completely, Bucky almost cries. But all Steve does is stand and smile down at him. He leans in and presses a soft kiss to Bucky’s forehead. Without a word, he strolls away from the bed. Bucky lifts his head up as best he can with his arms stretched above his head like this and whimpers before he can stop the sound from climbing up his throat. The noise, soft as it is, must catch Steve’s attention since he glances over his shoulder before he makes it even halfway across the room. 

He stops. Then smirks and turns back around. For a second, he just stands there, eyes raking over Bucky’s tied down body. He presses his teeth into his bottom lip like the sight is completely tantalizing, and instead of heading away again, he comes back to the bed. 

“Look at you,” he murmurs. “All tied up for me.” Steve runs a finger down Bucky’s chest. “You like being at my mercy, don’t ya, Buck?”

He does. _Oh_ he does so, so much. Bucky completely adores being in this position with Steve even if he shouldn’t. 

“Yes,” Bucky whispers. “Oh fuck, yes.”

A smile pulls up on Steve’s lips and he says nothing before getting that mouth over Bucky’s cock. Bucky’s still mostly soft and still tender and still a little sensitive, but he still throws his head back with a groan as that moist heat engulfs him. Steve’s tongue is just as glorious here as it is in Bucky’s ass. Deftly lapping up the sides and pressing gently over the slit. Above all, Steve is patient. He keeps sucking on Bucky, rolling his dick inside his mouth until Bucky starts to get hard again. 

It’s actually quite maddening. With Bucky’s hands tied like this he can’t get a grip on Steve’s hair. He can’t let his fingertips run across Steve’s head. He can’t touch Steve and he _wants_ to. So badly. 

He keeps struggling against his restraints, but Steve doesn’t seem too interested in letting him loose anytime soon as he just continues his gentle sucking. Bucky’s body is really beginning to crave rhythm now and Steve won’t give it to him. His tongue laps almost lazily and yet he’s _still_ got Bucky hard as a rock and leaking already, leaving Bucky with no other choice but to whine and beg for more. The words are right there in his throat -- _more, Steve, please,_ please _, gimme more --_ but they dry up and disappear when Steve’s finger starts circling around Bucky’s hole again. 

Helpless and needy, a whine breaks from his throat instead as Bucky attempts to push onto that finger. Steve, the little shit, smiles around Bucky’s cock. 

“You’re such,” Bucky pants, “an asshole.”

Still smirking, Steve’s eyes flick up to him, simmering and taunting and he then works his finger all the way in. Quick and a little rough and he immediately hooks it to drag it _right_ along Bucky’s prostate. Any fight Bucky might’ve had in him vanishes with the cry that he releases. Stars light up behind his eyes, his entire body igniting in white hot flames. 

Heat rolls around in his belly, molten gold curling around his bones and making him go completely pliant across the bed as Steve continues to do that. He hits that same spot over and over and over and just when Bucky thinks he can’t take anymore Steve misses it. Moves his finger so soft and gently, rolls it around until Bucky’s until _that’s_ just not enough.

“Steve!” Bucky shouts and sucks in a ragged breath before he can do anything else. “Please!”

This time, Steve actually laughs before really getting to it and giving Bucky what he so badly needs. Rhythm. Friction. Over and over with his mouth and finger and suddenly Bucky’s hips are thrusting up. Everything is too hot, too tight, too much and he comes while screaming Steve’s name. 

Steve swallows everything down completely. Stops his soft suckles right before they would become too overwhelming. 

Sweat soaked and panting, Bucky’s head spins. His heart is beating so damn fast he’s sure Steve can see it against his rib cage. With his hands still tied up, he can’t do much of anything so when Steve brushes the hair away from his eyes, all he does is look up at the guy and wait for whatever he wants to do next. 

“You got more in you,” Steve says. It’s not a question, Bucky knows that, and Steve’s teased more than three out of him in one night before, so shaking his head in a pathetic, half-attempted protest is a waste of time. “Oh yes. Yes, at least one.”

This time, when Steve walks away from the bed, he ignores the pitiful noises that come out of Bucky and he gets to the dresser. There, he grabs a bottle of lube and a condom. Comes back over with a devious smirk on his face. 

“I should make you wait for hours this time,” he says, and laughs when Bucky whines. “But no. Not tonight.”

Getting between Bucky’s legs -- which Bucky hasn’t even realized have dropped to the mattress so he’s just laying there spread eagle -- Steve shoves the right one back up. And just like he’s been doing all night, Steve takes his sweet ass time opening him up. Slides his fingers in one by one. Opening and stretching and letting Bucky feel the sweet, lovely burn that feels so perfect. 

By the time he finally gets a third finger in, Bucky’s thrashing his head from side to side and damn near clawing at the rope.

“Steve…” Bucky pants. “Please fuck me. Please…”

Steve grins and first scrapes his fingers along Bucky’s prostate one last time before easing his fingers out. Before putting the condom on, Steve takes off his shirt and Bucky wants more than ever to have his hands free so he can run them all over the skinny body. To skim his fingers across those tattoos and suck at those pert nipples. 

“Fuck, you’re so pretty.”

It takes Steve’s head snapping up for Bucky to realize that _he’s_ the one who said that. The words just burst from his mouth. Sure, he’s thought them before -- on several occasions -- but he’s never said them out loud. Not until right now. The look on Steve’s face -- shocked and awed and flattered -- makes Bucky regret every mean thing he’s ever said to him. _That’s_ the face he should always being trying to get Steve to make. That shy, bashful expression that has his cheeks filling with a blush. 

“You…” Steve shakes his head. “I…” He sighs with a tiny grin on his mouth. “Well, you’re fucking hot. Not shut up. I’m going to fuck you like you want.”

He gives Bucky no chance to reply. Steve lines his cock up and shoves on in. Makes Bucky throw his head back and cry out with each and every thrust. Somehow it’s so much -- having Steve deep inside of him -- and not nearly enough at all. Bucky wants more. He’s fucking _greedy_ for it.

“Fuck, Bucky,” Steve grunts. “You feel so fucking good. So fucking good for me, baby.”

Bucky groans his gratitude as Steve pushes harder and harder, as if he just can’t get enough either. Every shout and cry is unrestrained, their fucking becoming primal and debauched and based solely on want and desire. The air is sex soaked, the night beating with lustful abandon as Steve pounds into him. 

“Steve! Oh, _fuck_! I’m gonna… gonna come…”

Again. The third orgasm in so little time. It’s going to hurt, this one. It’s going to shoot through Bucky’s overwhelmed and oversensitive body and make him sob with a spike of pain mixed with all that pleasure. And it’ll be so worth it. Or it would be if Steve’s hand didn’t suddenly wrap tightly around the base of Bucky’s cock. Making it swell even more and holds in the orgasm.

“ _No_ ,” Steve growls. “Not yet.”

“But…”

“Wait…” he pants and takes his hand away. “Wait… good boy, wait…” 

Bucky grinds his teeth and moans through them, holding back as best he can though it definitely won’t be for long. Not with Steve’s perfect cock thrusting in and out of him. Not with Steve’s hands groping all over his body. Not with calling him good like that. 

“Steve,” Bucky whimpers.

But Steve just shakes his head while Bucky throws his back with a howl of frustration. Steve’s thrust slow just enough so he can reach across Bucky and untie his wrists. The second they’re free, Bucky’s reaching for Steve. Their fingers interlock, Steve’s hand squeezing in Bucky’s.

“Come. With me.” Steve takes hold of Bucky’s cock again and strokes. “Now, Bucky. You’re so good. So good for me…”

And Bucky does. He comes again with Steve’s praise floating around somewhere new inside of him. Someplace he didn’t even know existed until right now. Peaceful and right and maybe even belonging to Bucky but also a little bit to Steve. It’s beautiful, really, this place of tranquility. Where nothing else matters other than the blissful way he feels. Pink, he thinks. And glittery. Pink and glittery, and even though he’s not sure what that means exactly, Bucky’s okay with it. Because it’s his. 

He’s so enchanted by the feelings that he doesn’t even realize Steve’s already pulled out and wiped himself -- and Bucky it would seem -- down with his own shirt. Bucky smiles at him, but Steve doesn’t seem to notice. In fact, he’s not looking at him at all anymore. It only takes Bucky a heartbeat or two to figure out why. 

Steve’s going to leave. Steve is gonna leave because that’s what he’s come to expect Bucky to want. Only Bucky doesn’t want that. He… never really does. 

“Wait…” Bucky’s voice barely comes out, but he does manage to take hold of Steve’s wrist. “Don’t… don’t go…”

“Don’t?” Steve’s eyebrows stitch. “But you…”

Bucky lets go of him. “You don’t… have to stay. If you don’t want to.”

Steve answer that by sitting back down on the side of the bed. This is new, uncharted territory for them, but if Steve’s not opposed to it then neither is Bucky. After a few, awkward moments, Steve even eases down next to him. They sorta curl into each other, face to face, and Bucky runs his fingers through Steve’s messy hair while Steve’s hand gently fits to Bucky’s side. His thumb draws gentle circles into his skin.

This feels nice, lying here with Steve close to him. Bucky’s not so sure what to do or what to say -- if he should say anything at all -- but it’s still nice. Something he thinks maybe he’s wanted all along. He can’t remember the last time he cuddled with someone. Or the last time someone’s wanted to. 

Steve whispers a few minutes later, “You feel better now?”

“What?”

“It’s just… I usually feel better after we do this. When I feel like I’m totally out of control.” Out of control? Steve? “You usually seem to… do better, too. So do you? Feel better, I mean?”

Lead slowly fills Bucky’s stomach. The answer to that is most definitely a yes. Yes, he _does_ always feel better after they do this and right now is no different except maybe that this might be the best he’s ever felt afterwards. It’s the out of control part that stumps Bucky. Steve, for all he knows about him, _always_ seems in control. Hell, even when he stumbles in all banged up there’s this air of confidence around him. Like no matter what happened, he’s completely sure that he did it for the right reasons. Tried to, anyway. That’s where Steve’s heart seems to be -- in doing the right thing at all times. Even if that means putting up with his shitty roommate and being kind and patient with him when he doesn’t deserve it. 

“Yeah.” Bucky manages to get the word past the hard lump in his throat. “I feel better.”

“Um…” Steve hesitates. “ I’m sorry. About the… I’m tryin’, I swear I am.”

Bucky’s not sure exactly what he’s talking about, but when Steve lifts his chin to look at him, his stomach twists. He looks so… so dejected. Heartbroken. 

“What… what’re talkin’ about?”

Steve’s mouth opens to answer, but no words come out. His jaw stiffens and suddenly tears away from Bucky to sit up. He runs his hands through his hair with a sigh.

“I’m not tryin’a piss you off all the time.” He pulls his knees up like he did earlier when Bucky came in and yelled at him. “Why do you hate me, Bucky?”

His voice cracks on the word hate and Bucky’s face crumples with the accusation. He sits up, thinks about putting hand on Steve’s shoulder, but pulls his hand back before he does. He shouldn’t. Not after the pain he’s caused.

“No.” He shakes his head. “I don’t. I don’t, Steve, I…” Tears burn behind his eyes, but he needs to just come out and say it. “I’m so jealous of you, Steve.”

Turning to look at him, Steve eyes are wide. “What?”

“It’s just… you’re everything I’m not. You’re… I know your… your mom died.” Two years ago. Sarah. The name immortalized forever on Steve’s skin. “And you always… say how… how proud of you she was and…” Bucky gasps and abruptly starts crying. “And my parents hate me. They hate me, Steve, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry for what I did, I am and I’m trying to do good, I really am but they hate me and I’m sorry…”

“Bucky…” Steve throws his arms around him. “You _are_ good.” Bucky smothers his face between Steve’s neck and shoulder and keeps crying. “You’re doing fine, Buck. You are. You’re so smart and you work so hard.”

“I wish…” Bucky hiccups. “I wish I was brave like you.” It sounds so ridiculous. So fucking childish, but it’s the truth. “You’re just so _sure_ all the time. You’re not afraid of anything.”

Steve suddenly pulls away and stares at Bucky like that’s the most outrageous thing he’s ever said to him. After all the insults and bickering that’s been tossed between them, it’s _this_ that causes the most shock. 

“Not afraid?” Steve shakes his head. “No, Bucky, I…” He rubs his eyes and sucks in a rough breath. “I wasn’t stoned when you came in before.”

His voice is so quiet that Bucky can barely hear him. He just doesn’t understand why Steve’s saying it. His eyes were all glossy and bloodshot and… exactly the way they look right now. With tears in them. Bucky’s heart falls. Steve wasn’t stoned. Steve was crying. 

“Oh… Steve…” Bucky breathes, and this time he throws his arms around Steve. “I’m sorry. I didn’t… I’m sorry.”

“I’m scared, Bucky,” Steve whispers, face pressed against Bucky’s chest. “I’m scared I’m gonna disappoint everyone. I’m scared that you hate me. I’m scared… of this stupid test. I didn’t…” He wraps his arms around Bucky’s waist. “I signed up cause I didn’t want you to have to take it alone.” 

Well if that doesn’t make Bucky feel like the biggest jackass in the world. “Steve…”

“I know I’m not easy to live with,” Steve says. “I’ll try to be more…”

“No.” Bucky wipes the tears from Steve’s face before running the back of his hand over his eyes. “You’re not doing anything wrong. It’s me. It’s always been me. I wanted to keep you away so I… found reasons to be mad.”

“But why?” Steve’s eyes are big and weepy. “I _like_ you, Bucky. I mean…” He chuckles darkly. “When you’re _not_ yelling at me over everything.”

“That’s just it. I… I like you, too. So much. And I… I fuck _everything_ up. You don’t wanna like someone like me, Steve.”

“Why? Bucky…” Steve looks like he’s ready to shred something to pieces. “You think that because you fucked up once you don’t deserve to be loved? Look, dude, I dunno your parents, but I know that they’re missing out on knowing someone really incredible if they’ve made you think that. You don’t have to punish yourself, Bucky.”

“But… Steve…”

Steve touches the side of Bucky’s face and all the thoughts that have jumbled up inside of him dry up and disappear. He’s looking at him like he thinks Bucky’s the most incredible person in the world. 

“Why can’t… we do this together?” He gives Bucky a crooked smile. “You can tell me when I’m being a pain in the ass and I’ll tell you when you got a stick up yours and I’ll… I’ll remind you everyday that you’re good enough. You are, Bucky. You _are_ good enough.”

“But… _why_? How could you…”

“Because you’re passionate, Bucky,” Steve tells him. “And you’re actually really nice. And you can be so funny. And you’re smart as hell. And you try _so damn hard_ to be perfect, but you don’t have to because you already…”

Slamming his mouth shut, Steve drops his gaze to his lap and turns a nice shade of crimson. Something warm and amazing runs through Bucky. For whatever reason -- and despite all he’s just said, Bucky’’s not so sure he’s really given him one -- Steve thinks he’s good enough. Just like that. Even through all the nitpicking and criticism he sees something good in him. Sure, he’s said it during sex before, but this is different. This sounds like Steve really means it. 

The idea leaves Bucky feeling fuzzy. Much like before, in that dazzling place Steve brought him to, he feels pink and glittery. 

“Thank you, Steve,” Bucky whispers. “Thank you. I was wrong, you know.” What else is new? “When I said you couldn’t do the things you wanted. You… you can do anything.” Of that, Bucky’s now thoroughly convinced. 

That crooked smile deepens. “I know.”

Bucky chuckles through tears. Both of them are crying now and Bucky’s not even really sure why, but they are and it actually feels good. Feels right. They’ve wasted too much time hating each other. Or pretending to hate each other or something, and Bucky’s not doing it anymore. He’s just not. So he leans in and kisses Steve. Softly. Deeply. 

And Steve kisses back just as soft and deep.

Once again, Bucky’s not sure who moves first, but somehow they end up in each other’s arms, a tangled up mess of limbs as they cling onto each other in Bucky’s bed, and Bucky falls asleep with Steve’s words dancing through his heart. 

***

“Hey, Mom,” Bucky greets when she answers the phone. “I, uh, I took the MCATs today.”

Three months after his initial attempt. He and Steve canceled the morning after everything happened and have sorta been, well, dating ever since. Steve still chugs down that huge cup of Starbucks and bounces off the walls and doesn’t know what a hamper’s for and leaves his clothes everywhere. But he’s also become Bucky’s best friend in the world and a few annoying habits are not going to change that. Because while Steve still bounces off the walls and doesn’t know what a hamper’s for and leaves his clothes everywhere, he _also_ makes Bucky laugh like no one else. He’s always got Bucky’s back, even if that means telling him he’s got a stick up his ass. He reminds Bucky, everyday as promised, that he’s good enough. 

And Steve no longer hides things from him either. When he’s overwhelmed or scared and misses his mom he’ll crawl into Bucky’s arms and let himself be held for a while. If there’s one thing that Bucky’s learned from his time with Steve it’s that he doesn’t do that with just anyone. 

And right now, a pair of skinny arms are wrapped around Bucky’s waist as he sits on his bed to talk to his mom. 

“Oh yeah?” his mom answers. “What was that again?”

Bucky sighs. “The exams to get into medical school. I think I did okay.”

That gets Steve to smile. Maybe some of this guy’s optimism is finally starting to rub off on Bucky. Bucky grins back. 

“That nice, hon. Did you hear--”

“Mom,” Bucky interrupts. His heart is pounding. So hard. He’s starting to shake, too, but Steve presses a kiss to the side of his neck and Bucky keeps going. “Stop it.”

“Excuse me?”

He swallows the lump in his throat. “You know I love you and Dad very much. And I’m…” He needs just a second so that his voice doesn’t break. “I’m sorry for what I did when I was younger. I know I wasn’t an easy kid to love. But you can’t keep treating me like I’m a failure.”

“James.” She’s angry. He can hear it in her voice and by the tap, tap, tap of her fingernails as she drums them over something. “What you put your father and I through--”

“It was a long time ago. I messed up. And I’m sorry. But I’m not that person anymore and I’d like to be part of our family, but not if you’re going to treat me like this.”

There’s a long pause. So long that Bucky thinks she might’ve hung up on him, but he’s too anxious to even check. He just waits. Pulse thudding and stomach turning. 

“Well.” Bucky’s sighs in relief. It’s not over yet though. “We’ll discuss this when you come home for Easter next week.”

Okay. At least that’s something. 

“My boyfriend’s coming with me,” he tells her. Might as well go for the gold. “You can’t keep putting off meeting him. He means a lot to me.”

Steve’s arms squeeze in a gentle hug as he rests his chin upon Bucky’s shoulder.

“We’ll… set a place for him then. See you next Sunday, James.”

She hangs up before Bucky can give any farewell. It takes him a moment to realize the call is no longer connected and when he does he actually feels like he might faint. Or laugh. Or cry.

“I’m so proud of you, Bucky,” Steve is saying as he moves around to straddle his lap. He kisses him. “You did it.”

“I… yeah…” He almost can’t believe it himself. “I did it. How did you do that?”

“Me?” Steve laughs. “ _You_ did it.”

“I dunno.” Bucky smiles and laughs as he pulls Steve down onto the bed with him. Exhilaration fills him right down to the marrow of his bones. “I think it had a little something to do with my horrible roommate being kinda awesome.”

Steve is giggling as he settles in Bucky’s arms. “Did you mean that?”

“Mean what?”

“What you said about me. That… I mean a lot to you?”

Bucky kisses the top of his head. Today’s a day for being bold and he’s just going to say it. If he can stand up to his parents, he can do this. Piece of cake.

“I think I’m falling in love with you.”

The second the words fall off his tongue Bucky thinks he might throw up. Or faint. Or run away and never come back.

“Oh.” Steve pauses, and laughs and smiles. “Cool. Cause I’m pretty sure I’m falling in love with you.”

Laughing, Bucky runs a hand softly over the side of Steve’s face before leaning to kiss him. They still have their angry moments and they bicker and they have really awesome, mind-blowing sex, and Bucky Barnes is twenty-three when he starts to realize that Steve Rogers has made him see something he missed so many years ago. 

Maybe, just maybe, he really _is_ good enough. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! This was a part of Kells' Ficlet Fest
> 
> The Ficlet Fest are all ficlets that are based upon prompts sent to my tumblr at [thebestpersonherelovesbucky](http://thebestpersonherelovesbucky.tumblr.com/).


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